


for every failing sun

by orphan_account



Category: Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Gen, Implied Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-13
Updated: 2013-02-13
Packaged: 2017-11-29 03:10:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/682041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>written as a response to this anon's request:  </p><p>"Can you write a joncer ficlet based on this? Imagine your OTP where person A in the military and just came home from being overseas and person B runs up to them and kisses them and hugs them and starts crying their so happy.(Jon is person A.)"</p>
            </blockquote>





	for every failing sun

Spencer wakes up to his phone buzzing under his pillow and rolls over in bed. He smiles into his sheets and thinks of Jon, like he always does, and feels himself flush with excitement. Jon’s flying home today.

Internally, he squeals or does something equally manly and pulls himself out of the bed—which is large and empty and not soft enough compared to Jon’s hugs—and goes to the bathroom to splash water on himself so that he doesn’t break something out of excitement. 

It’s still dark out, and the sun has hours before it needs to rise, but Spencer is giddy with excitement. His hands shake when he tugs a t-shirt over his head, and afterwards he plants his face in the pillow, smiling into fabric and thinking of how it’ll smell like Jon again.

He still has one of Jon’s scarves, but the scent’s so faded that he just clutches it to his chest whenever his heart hurts. It used to be musky and warm and clean, like Jon, and Spencer misses that. It makes him feel selfish, sometimes, for wanting it, but he wants Jon back. 

The airport is an hour’s drive away, and Jon’s flight is supposed to arrive in two hours. Spencer dresses himself anyway and puts on a jacket before he even remembers to eat breakfast.

His phone vibrates everything on the counter, and Ryan’s voice is a mix of smug and a sad kind of happy when he picks it up and answers.

“Hey,” he says, trying to keep his tone composed. It’s definitely not going to fool Ryan.

At the same time, someone yells in the background of the other line, and Ryan sighs and says, “Brendon,” annoyed.

“Bring him back safe, Spence,” Brendon huffs into the phone, making it go staticky, and Spencer smiles. It’s kind of endearing.

Ryan steals the phone back, and chuckles into the speaker. “Today’s the big day,” he says, and Spencer mmm’s over the phone. Ryan doesn’t know what it’s like, and he’s aware of that. “I’m coming over with Brendon later,” he says, like a promise, “tell Jon to call when you pick him up.”

And then they leave him, and the house is silent again except for the sounds of Spencer eating and two of the cats rolling around near the stairs. It’d been peaceful at first, but then it became lonely, and now the emptiness has turned nearly synonymous with sadness. Spencer doesn’t like it. He likes his days to be busy with work and music and friends and Jon and sunshine and laughter.

He’s meticulous when he puts on his jacket and grabs the keys and goes out the door. His stomach flutters, and it’s as if h didn’t even eat at all. He packs a lunch box for Jon; he knows he hates the airplane food and he claims Spencer’s cooking is his favorite.

Spencer swallows, remembering Jon coming up behind him while he stood over the stove or at the sink, touching his hips or putting his nose against his neck, and his throat closes up.

He drives the entire way listening to some boring hipsters with their talk show on the radio, and drums his fingers to the Fall Out Boy songs that flow through the chunks of silence.

The airport is a relatively small one, but there are still at least fifty people busily making their way around at the desks when Spencer arrives. He ignores them and makes his way to one of the waiting areas. There are two people already there; a nervous-looking teenager and a woman who looks like she might be a mother.

His phone buzzes in his pocket. It’s a concise message from Ryan telling him that Brendon’s decided on a picnic for the four of them tomorrow. The idea makes Spencer happy, because he knows Jon will like it.

They’ll have to give him a day, though, to adjust, and that worries Spencer because he knows all he’ll want to do is wrap himself in Jon until he can’t breathe properly and then hug him even harder.

It’ll be okay, though, won’t it? Ryan asks. Because he’ll be back.

yeah, Spencer replies.

Arriving and departing flight numbers are being called through the speaker system by some bored-sounding old woman. Spencer tries to pay attention, but it drones at him and he’d rather be lost in his headphones.

He spends half an hour on the metal bench, and his legs begin to cramp and ache. He tells himself it’s worth it.

He gets up to go to the bathroom and spends over ten minutes in it (as appalling as the place is) splashing water at himself. He tries to ignore the flutters in his stomach and drinks coffee from his thermos and forces himself to pee.

What he notices before he leaves is that he looks happier than he has in a long time. His eyes are maybe a little sleep-deprived, but it’ll be okay.

So h goes back out and he notices the woman is gone, and sits back down in his previous seat, worrying about whether Jon’s flight might have been called or not. He shivers as artificially-conditioned air blows at him.

Ten minutes later, he watches as the teenager that was sitting one and a half benches away jumps up to greet someone that looks like he might be her brother. He smiles to himself. 

Then someone taps his shoulder, and then he nearly screams because he already knows who it is.

He leaps around and crashes into Jon’s slightly skinnier frame, clad in his loose green uniform, and buries his face in Jon’s shoulder. He hears him chuckle and sobs because he hasn’t heard him laugh like that in such an awful while it nearly hurts to hear it again.

Jon is bonier, but somehow softer, and his hair is short and he still smells the same and Spencer presses their lips together before hiccupping into his uniform. “I missed you,” he manages, and fumbles before, “I brought you food, and coffee, and—“

“I love you,” Jon says, which is spontaneous but it’s good, and Spencer feels incredibly, incredibly warm in his arms.


End file.
